


It Starts with Strawberries

by euphorbic



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, Kink Meme, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot, Present Tense, Strawberries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:19:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphorbic/pseuds/euphorbic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with strawberries and ends with oral sex. </p><p>Plot-free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Starts with Strawberries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Synekdokee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synekdokee/gifts).



> Synecdoche's Prompt: __
> 
>   
>  Considering that red mouth of his, I bet Charles loves sucking cock. It surprises Erik the first time, takes a bit getting used to (getting used), the way Charles whines around the cock in his mouth, those small desperate sounds he makes when Erik draws back and away, the way his eyes fall shut when Erik grabs his hair and selfishly starts guiding his movements. I bet he doesn't even care about the strings of saliva dripping down his chin, onto his chest, between his thighs where his own prick is hanging heavy and neglected. I bet he lets out a sharp, displeased noise when Erik pulls out when he hears Charles start to gag, I bet he chases after the tip greedily before he's even properly caught his breath, straining in Erik's grasp, like he'll suffocate if he can't have the heavy length of Erik's shaft in his mouth nowmorewantfuckneedneedneedplease.
> 
> I think, even after Erik's come, his cock flaccid and messy, Charles will be drawn to it and he'll lick it clean with soft flicks of that pink tongue, unable to stifle those happy little sighs. 

Alternate title: _O_

It starts off with the fresh-picked strawberries Charles bought with Raven that morning at the Westchester farmer’s market. He’s washed them thoroughly, but hasn’t removed their tops, because he likes to have something to hold when he eats them. He sets them on a haphazardly folded tea towel and pats them gently dry. Then he moves the lot into a chipped china bowl.

Reading the Sunday paper at the table, Erik feels the last bits of worn silver that create a broken circle along the bowl’s circumference. There isn’t enough for him to grip, but the metal staple from a long distant mend feels promising. However, the weight of the strawberries and china focused on the staple’s axis will likely break the already cracked dish. He considers sliding the bowl along the bench instead.

Charles doesn’t know what Erik is planning: he’s too preoccupied with a plan of his own. He’s been following Erik’s attention and it has spiked. He looks over his shoulder; Erik’s eyes aren’t even tracking the lines of print on the newsprint.

“Would you like one, my friend?” Charles offers, turning around to face Erik. He pick one of the crimson berries up by a stem. He inverts his hand so the strawberry is upside down to display it at an angle he means to be subtly suggestive.

“Why take one,” Erik asks in feigned nonchalance, “when I can have them all?”

To add weight to the deceptively light tone of his voice, Erik’s eyes flick up from the international news he ceased reading moments prior. He first takes in the pleased expression on Charles’ face. Then his eyes are drawn to Charles’ lips as he moistens them slowly with the tip of his tongue.

“Why take the others,” Charles counters, noting the slow dilation of Erik’s eyes, “if this one tastes better than all of them?” For emphasis, he places the strawberry against his lower lip and rolls it slightly back and forth.

“How can I be sure,” Erik asks, forcing precise articulation as his mouth dries at the sight of the suggestively shaped berry on Charles’ suggestively full lips, “that it tastes better than the others?”

Charles sucks the tip of the berry into his mouth. His eyes close slightly as he enjoys the texture of the seeded skin on his lips. It feels good, but there’s something slick and heated he’d like to replace it with.

He releases the strawberry in order to answer Erik, but he already feels the man’s lust radiating around them. “I suppose you would need a sample taste.”

It only takes a little nip to release the berry’s flavor onto his lips. He rubs the wet flesh across his lush lower lip, coating it with sweet gloss. “Come have a taste?”

Erik’s turtleneck is getting too warm and his khakis are growing uncomfortably tight with his burgeoning hard on. He stares, still as a predator before it pounces. He tries to hold back, to control the hunger raging through his veins. Forcefully, he counts the fillings in Charles’ teeth, traces the figure eight of the reading glasses in his shirt pocket, notes the texture of the zip on Charles’ slacks.

The zip is a mistake.

Charles’ grin is knowing and lascivious when he feels the metal shudder. It feels lovely against his cock through the cotton of his boxers. He wonders if Erik is using the zip to feel him up.

Erik takes the time to meticulously fold the newspaper and set it aside, but that is all the patience he is capable of expending. “I don’t think I’ll stop at a taste.”

Charles smiles back. “I don’t think I will, either.”

It starts with the fresh-picked strawberries bought at the farmer’s market, but only one of them is eaten. There are more fulfilling things to taste. The flavor of strawberries and Charles’ lips lead to the most convenient of their bedrooms: Charles’. Their clothes are strewn across the floor, their skin is hot to the touch, and Erik’s cock tastes better than any strawberry ever could.

Erik enjoys it when Charles is demanding, so he has allowed himself to be maneuvered into one of the wingback chairs near the wide window. He has a lovely view of the wooded surroundings, but he is focused on a better view between his thighs.

He has one leg hooked over an armrest; his thighs are wide open. Charles’ head is moving between the lean muscles of Erik’s legs as he kneels naked on one corner of the massive Persian rug.

Erik’s hands crown Charles’ head helplessly. He strains to keep from forcing Charles’ head down, from pushing his cock past swollen lips and down the more rigid channel of Charles’ slick throat.

Charles’ has his right hand around the base of Erik’s cock, in order to maneuver it as he likes. His left hand rests on Erik’s thigh to support his upper body as he leans in to rub his lips across the circumcised head.

Erik is breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in gasps. It isn’t that Charles has never given him head or that he has never returned the favor. They have. But this is something else completely. Erik gives Charles head because he likes getting Charles wound up before fucking him. He assumed that was how Charles felt when the position was reversed; now he suspects otherwise.

It is apparent this blow job is the main course and not the appetizer he always thought it to be, because Charles is devoting himself fully. He gives every impression he would like to suck Erik’s cock forever, the way he sighs and moans around each mouthful.

Charles draws his lower lip up the underside of Erik’s shaft, exhilarating in the feel of saliva and precome that makes the journey slick and fulfilling. The sensation on his lip makes his toes curl and his cock strain. Better yet, it makes Erik groan. When he reaches the top, he closes his lips and then pushes, letting Erik feel the slow penetration of his mouth.

“Fuck, _Charles_.” One of Erik’s hands leaves Charles’ hair and pounds the armrest brutally. His hips thrust forward with the motion and his cock surges past teeth and into the back of Charles’ throat before he’s ready.

Charles’ convulses slightly, his gag reflex hit unexpectedly. He draws back just enough to swallow, but he does not take his mouth from the engorged cock. Instead, he sucks all the harder, humming with pleasure at the solid weight of Erik’s cock in his mouth, sliding across his tongue.

A guttural cry escapes Erik that only vaguely resembles Charles’ name. He sinks his free hand back into Charles’ hair. He grips the locks and pulls him down his cock once more, aching to fuck Charles’ wicked mouth into oblivion.

This time Charles is ready, his throat relaxes, and Erik’s cock glides across his tongue and fills his throat. _My throat is full of cock…_ he sends to Erik, to make him even wilder. The truth is; the thought makes him wilder, too. His cock is heavy, miserable with lack of friction, and leaking a puddle on the expensive rug.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Erik all but shouts. To Charles’ delight, Erik starts thrusting fast and ruthlessly. His eyes water, but he’d smile if his lips weren’t stretched around Erik’s shaft.

Erik is swiftly approaching orgasm. His balls are drawn up, his thighs are beginning to quiver, and his groin is tied in painfully delicious knots. More than all of that, the head of his cock is hypersensitive and swallowed deep.

Charles thinks of squeezing the base of Erik’s cock as he feels his orgasm coming close. He doesn’t really want Erik to come, because he’s still not had enough of his glorious prick.

He gets his way accidentally when he cannot withhold his gag reflex indefinitely. He convulses a little harder this time and draws back. Erik tries desperately to pull him forward by the hair, succeeds, because Charles is more than happy to take more, despite his need to breathe. But he convulses again.

Concern finally overcomes the drive for shooting his load. Erik lets go of Charles, actually pulls him back by his sweat-damp hair. He’s surprised when Charles fights him, trying to keep his mouth latched on to his cock. When Erik pulls him off Charles’ lips make an obscene popping noise off the head, which feels ridiculously amazing. Saliva and precome hang suspended from Charles’ swollen lips to Erik’s glistening cock head.

And suddenly, Charles is projecting again. _Erik, your cock, give it back. Bloody hell, yes, give it back! It feels, tastes… so good! So good!_ If that isn’t enough he’s also making gasping, begging noises and tugging carefully at where he is still gripping the base of Erik’s cock.

“Charles,” Erik groans, wanting Charles’ sinful red lips back on him, “you were gagging.”

“I like gagging,” Charles lies, drawing an incredulous look from Erik at the sheer outrageousness of the statement and the whining nature of his voice. “Erik, _please…!_ ”

For a moment, Erik pauses and drinks in Charles’ face; flushed, feverish, and _wet_. Saliva and precome is dripping from his chin and his neck is slick with it. What hasn’t been caught in the dip of his clavicles is dripping down his chest, to the plane of his solar plexus. Charles’ chest is heaving, every breath is a gasp of desperation and need.

Glancing down he sees Charles’ cock, erect and gleaming as it leaks. Erik groans, because he hasn’t even touched Charles beyond pulling his hair and thrusting into his throat. He glances back up Charles’ mouth again, his plush lips are parted; his tongue slips out to taste Erik’s cock on their surface.

When he looks up further, he sees earnest lust in Charles’ dilated eyes. His grip on Charles hair doesn’t loosen, but his arms slacken. Charles feels the resistance relent and dives forward. His eyes close in pleasure as he sucks the tip in for just a moment before pulling off to run his lips left and right. The feel of skin and heat across his lips drives him to distraction. The scent of Erik’s precome is thick in his nose.

Having been so close to orgasm once, it doesn’t take long for Erik to near the threshold again. Especially not with the noises Charles is making. The wet sounds of suction are potent, but Charles has graduated to whining desperately around his cock.

Once again, Erik’s hips begin to thrust forward. He takes his hands off Charles’ head and grips the chair’s arm rests. His fingertips crush the gold velvet and then begin to dig permanent furrows across the padding beneath the upholstery. It is the only way he can keep from seizing Charles by the hair and fucking his face.

Feeling Erik reaching the edge of orgasm once again, Charles is again torn between pulling off or squeezing the base of Erik’s cock to prevent his orgasm. In the end, he decides not to go the selfish route and instead sucks the curving prick down his throat.

Erik’s hips lift off the cushion as Charles works his cock with utter abandon. He feels feverish, a flush stands out on his cheeks, and he begins to feel the pulsing that comes right before orgasm. When it arrives, it is blinding, and his hips are driving out of control.

Charles rides the orgasm out, sucking away, hot ejaculate flooding his mouth. He swallows as much as he can, but with the violence of Erik’s orgasm, most of the semen overflows his lips and chin.

Tense and arched, Charles’ attentions seem to keep the orgasm going. Eventually, though, Erik subsides. He collapses back in the chair and shudders helplessly. Still between his legs, he can feel Charles hard at work.

Charles is lapping up come from where it fell on his thighs. He follows the trail to Erik’s balls, sucking at his scrotum until Erik curses and pushes weakly at Charles’ head.

The lethargy of orgasm cedes all control to Charles. Undeterred, he makes deeply satisfied noises as he follows the sloppy trail of ejaculate to Erik’s flaccid cock and begins to lick it clean. Erik tries harder this time to push Charles off; his prick is too sensitive from orgasm to withstand the slick friction of Charles’ tongue, no matter how well-lubricated it is with saliva and come.

Charles is not to be denied and forges on, sucking Erik’s soft cock into his mouth. He laves away all traces of ejaculate with breathy sighs of satisfaction and circular swirls of his tongue. In the end, Erik has to place a bare foot on Charles’ shoulder to lever him away. “Fuck, Charles! Stop already.”

Charles sits back, a spectacular pout on his swollen lips, but then brightens with a thought. “If you let me, I can access the part of your mind that unconsciously controls the length of your refractory period. I’ll shorten it so we can have another go.”

Erik only barely comprehends what Charles is saying, but his answer is the same. “No, Charles. I think you sucked the life force out of me this time.”

Despite disappointment, Charles smiles, because it is praise from the laconic man he loves. He takes his hand from Erik’s thigh. With a shiver, he traces his fingertips up the underside of his own cock. “Well, then, it just so happens that I have some to spare.”

**Author's Note:**

> _This doubles as an olive branch to everyone having to wait an extra two weeks for a new chapter of Strict Machine. That's my solution to everything: offer porn._


End file.
